


Bite Me

by iloveyoudie



Series: Morseverse Prompt Fills [12]
Category: Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Biting, Established Relationship, M/M, Older Characters, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: “Do you know the etymology of that particular phrase, Morse?” Max’s dark blue eyes peered over the top of his thick framed glasses and Morse knew he didn’t need to answer.





	Bite Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DwarvenBeardSpores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenBeardSpores/gifts).



> A tumblr prompt answer for Kadet.  
> \- Bite me -

"Are you sure?" Morse stood unprotected in the shower of rain, looking miserable as his feet sank almost ankle deep into the muddy field. He'd left his umbrella in the car and they were halfway through Dr. Debryn's initial report when the skies had opened up.

" _Sure_?" The doctor's usual displeasure seemed heightened by the uniquely messy setting. He was half sunk into a shallow grave of mud and churned up turf and his gloved arms were caked to nearly the elbow from manipulating the corpus. Morse's questioning of him had the man looking positively incensed. An unlucky uniformed officer stood nearby soaked to the bone and dripping as he held an umbrella out over the thorny pathologist's head, yet Max, somehow, still looked to be soaking wet and it surely wasn't helping his mood.

"You expect me to believe that my key witness was discovered half buried in a field, the brother to our missing girl no less, and there are absolutely no signs of trauma whatsoever?" Morse shifted uncomfortably in his jacket as he felt trickles of rain running down the back of his neck and soaking icily into the collar of his shirt.

Max's face shifted from disgruntled irritation into a sudden dawning enlightenment, "Oh yes! I'd forgotten! Careless of me. Really."

Morse's brow furrowed cautiously and knew he was setting himself up for something acidic even as he asked, "Forgotten?"

"To congratulate you," Max said with a purposeful pause. His brow then furrowed deeper with each successive word, "On your PhD in forensic pathology. Is it hanging next to your _other_ degree?"

Morse hissed lightly at the low blow and rolled his eyes away. He knew better than to try and challenge the doctor when he was in such a rare mood, "Oh, bite me, Max."

The doctor regarded him with an indecipherable stare and Morse turned away. He abandoned the scene to instead trudge back across the muddy field towards the car where Lewis waited with a statement from the farmer who had unearthed the grisly scene.

\---

Morse pulled up to his own home later that evening and found Max's familiar black BMW parked in the drive and the sitting room windows lit behind the heavy patterned curtains. Their interaction at the muddy crime scene was nearly forgotten, at least the sniping was, in lieu of Morse's mind grinding over the details of the case. He hadn't quite shaken the cold and damp from his bones though, and as he parked the Jag beside Max's car he fantasized momentarily about a warming drink and a hot shower.

The door was already unlocked when he made his way inside and hung his coat. Max was nowhere to be seen but _La Traviata_ was playing in the sitting room, Violetta lamenting in Act Three, so Morse sat by the door to untie his shoes where the doctor's own worn oxfords rested as well. He may have dried out over the course of the day but Morse swore he could still feel the cold stick of wet fabric and there was a clinging, full body discomfort that wouldn't be shed until he was out of his work clothes and under a hot spray of water.

"Max?"

"Here," The nasal growl came from the vicinity of the kitchen and Morse chased it while he loosened his tie and carelessly hung it on a passing cabinet door knob.

"Let yourself in, hm?" Morse didn't detect a hint of cooking in the air, though Max was at the stove in his braces and shirtsleeves. He was still in his own work suit and Morse could see the dried stray splatters of mud where his Wellingtons had become ineffective against the environment.

"Wasn't going to wait for you," Max drawled with a sour edge as he leaned on the counter and watched the kettle.

"Are you at least making enough for two?" Morse got the impression the other wasn't entirely pleased with him and drifted behind him to rest his hands on Max's full waist and press his face into the slightly shorter man's hair.

Max simply grunted and tilted his head a centimeter away.

"Oh come on now," Morse sighed, "What's the matter? You know you aren't the only one who had a bad day. I've got a missing girl, likely dead, and now her dead brother."

Max's head turned, not having pulled away from Morse entirely but just enough to be difficult, and his brows lifted with a noted lack of amusement, "Bite me, Morse."

Morse let out a sound of frustrated disbelief and let go of the doctor. He couldn't grasp that a stray comment had gotten the other so annoyed, but at the same time he knew that such a small thing, on top of a mountain of a bad day, could make all the difference. The only consolation was that Max was here. If he had been genuinely upset, he would have just gone back to his own house.

"Well I'm going to shower then, if you're so sore at me.." Morse thrust his hand into his pockets and turned back towards the doorway to the hall, "You'd do for one too, I suspect. For that cold shoulder."

He hadn't gotten a step before Morse found himself turned and crowded against the wall. Max's full weight was against him, warm and heavy and immobilizing. His pulse immediately jumped when the doctor caught his wrists and pinned them at his sides.

"You don't think before you speak, Morse. That's your problem. One of many problems, I should say," Max was close now but hadn't yet breached the gap between their faces.

Morse half-laughed, his wrists trying to turn in the doctor's strong grip and then giving up. He repeated, very pointedly, "Bite me, Max."

And to his surprise, he actually did. The doctor's teeth sunk into the juncture of his neck, right under his open collar and the brief pinch of pain flooded him with heat that quickly pooled in his abdomen and pulled a groan from Morse that he couldn't help.

Max released him, released his wrists at least, but kept him held against the wall with the heavy pressure of his sliding hands, one of which rested against Morse's throat a moment. He was powerless to deny Max in a mood like this.

"Do you know the etymology of that particular phrase, Morse?" Max's dark blue eyes peered over the top of his thick framed glasses and Morse knew he didn't need to answer.

" _Bite my crank_ ," His large palm nearly circled Morse's neck though he did nothing but caress a thumb along his collarbone, "Which was just a spin the little boys put on things when they weren't allowed to say suck my-"

The kettle interrupted him with a shrill whistle and Morse practically leapt under the pressure of Max's hands in his surprise. The doctor's brows rose and he turned to give the kettle a curious look before simply letting Morse go and walking away. He moved it to a cool burner and turned the stove off. His cold shoulder, it seemed, had melted away but Morse remained where he was, backed against the wall and tense with anticipation and not a small bit of arousal.

"There is enough for two," Max said as he fetched two cups and cast Morse a slightly smug look, "But I think our shower can wait. Don't you?"

Morse let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sagged finally. His hand rubbed across the still burning brand of Max's teeth under the edge of his collar and his insides spun in momentary flutters as he thought about what his evening may have in store before he finally calmed himself and moved to take a seat.


End file.
